


Controls

by itsavolcano



Category: Spaced
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts as a lazy Saturday afternoon at 23 Meteor Street, has the potential to change Daisy Steiner's career path--or does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Controls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magicallaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicallaw/gifts).



It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at 23 Meteor Street, and Tim Bisley and Daisy Steiner were… well, _immobile_. Daisy was stretched out on the sofa, enjoying the calmness of the day and plotting her future life achievements as Tim crouched on the beanbag, killing things with his game controller.

"This is nice," Daisy clapped her hands together.

"What is?"

"Us, you and me—just hanging out on a Saturday like proper mates. Just the two of us."

"We _are_ proper mates."

"Yeah, I know, that's what I'm saying. But we never really get the chance to hang out alone anymore, you know?"

"Eh, yeah, alright."

"Hey, Guess what? I have good news, exciting news—I think I've finally figured out what I want to do, Tim."

"Oh?"

"It isn't really something _new_, it's something I've always wanted to be, but now, I think—really, _now_ is the best time. Everything is sort of aligned perfectly, you know? I can see it all happening… it'll be great, and I'll be great at it…"

"Skip to the—"

"Daisy Steiner: Published Novelist," Daisy held up her hand, as if miming the layout of words on a literary billboard.

"Yeah, but you _aren't_ a published novelist," Tim commented around a mouthful of toast and jam, while trying not to dribble the jam onto the buttons of the controller.

"But I _will be_."

"When?"

"Someday, someday, Tim. –I could've been a published novelist, you know, years ago. I just choose _not_ to…."

"—You choose not to be successful?"

"_Alright_."

"You know what the first step in _becoming_ a published novelist is?"

"Sign with an agent?"

"Before that?"

"Go to parties and meet people? Mingle. Hob-knob."

"Um, no, Daisy, before that." He rolled his eyes. "You have to actually _write_ a book."

"I've started a book, Tim, it just isn't finished!"

"Might want to get on that, then, there, Daze."

"Could you take Colin for a walk?"

"I took him this morning!"

"I take him every day!"

"I can take him." Mike spoke up from the chair by the window.

"What are you doing?" Tim squeaked in surprise, and then flinched and grimaced when he lost a life to the video game goons.

"How long have you been there, Mike?"

"Time is it?"

"Half past two."

"Since…" he scratched his mustache and smoothed it out with his finger, "yesterday."

"Yesterday?" Tim craned his neck around. "We didn't hang out yesterday."

"I know." Mike's expression grew cloudy as his eyes narrowed behind his tinted sunglasses. "You had a date."

"It was a _job interview_, Mike. She and I were discussing graphic art and other things related to the field."

"Fancy her?" Mike raised an eyebrow in an accusing fashion.

"Mike, don't do this," Tim's voice dropped an octave, consolingly.

"You already have a job—don't see why you need to go collecting another!"

"Because if _Dark Star_ is truly not going to extend my contract over some misinterpretation as to what… well, I'm not even gonna…" He dropped the game controller, and hand raised his hands to his head. "No, this is greater than their misinterpretation. It isn't the point! The point is, they're trying to censor me, and that goes against all my creative rights, not to mention my rights as a _human being_—"

"They didn't like the radio-active zombie monkey sketch," Daisy mumbled to Mike.

"That's not the point!" Tim repeated—and loudly.

"Easy," Daisy commented before turning back to Mike. "You've sat here since last night?"

"Slept a little."

"Couldn't you… go back up to your flat?"

Mike cast his eyes down and shook his head. "Too much wine in the cupboards."

"There's always too much wine in the cupboards, Mike. –It's _Marsha!_—" Daisy's declaration turned into a greeting as Marsha entered the flat with a bottle of red win in her hand and a smile on her lips.

"Hello Daisy, hello Tim.—Mike, missed you last night…"

"Er…" Mike shifted uncomfortably as his eyes darted wildly around the room.

"Oh, yeah, he was with me last night," Tim offered and scratched his ear. "Sorry, Marsha."

"That's alright, I can understand a lad's night out… Next time you're looking for a lad's night in, though, Mike, you know where to find me…" She winked and gave a crooked smile, causing Mike to shift once more. "Well, now that I know he's safe, I'll just be headin' back upstairs… no need for me to interfere any further…"

"Oh, no, Marsha," Daisy interjected. "You can—"

"Well, if you insist, do you have a glass?" She sat down at the kitchen table and gave her wine bottle a slight shake.

"How are _you_, Marsha?" Daisy asked as she sat a mug down in front of the landlady.

"Oh, you know—how are you, love?"

"I'm writing a novel," Daisy declared, once more and with even more exuberance.

"Daisy Steiner: Published Novelist."

"What did I say?" Tim piped up from his place on the floor.

"I _know_. I'm workin' on it, Tim. There's no reason to be such a downer all the time, you have your comic book job, let me have _this one thing_!"

"You can have it, Daisy. I want you to have it. But you need to actually sit down and _write_ something."

"I write every day!"

"You doze off in that chair _every day_."

"It's a process, Tim! _Leave me alone_!"

"You just have so much potential, Daze! We want you to achieve your goals—Don't we, Mike?"

"Eh," Mike shrugged.

"Mike," Tim shouted. "_Don't we_?"

"Yes, Daisy, we want you to achieve your goals," Mike parroted.

"Of course, we do, love," Marsha piped up as she lifted her mug of wine to her lips without removing her ever-present cigarette.

"OK, fine. I'll start my novel today. I won't sleep until its _sorted_ and _started_." She held her palms up, definitively.

Tim eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "Good."

"Lovely," Marsha added, no longer truly paying attention.

Mike flipped open and then closed his pocketknife a few times, mesmerized by the light shining off of the blade. Marsha gulped down the remainder of the wine in her mug and stood.

"Right, well, darlings, I'm off—I could use a quick kip now that I'm quite sloshed. –Mike? Will I be seeing you tonight?"

"Er…um," Mike whimpered. "Gotta help, Tim, Marsha. Dinner, tomorrow?"

"Pasta?" Marsha's tone seemed to hold a hidden meaning, but no one was quite sure what to make of it.

"Yes?"

And with that, Marsha was out the door and up the stairs in own flat as quickly as she had arrived. Once they heard Marsha settle onto her sofa, the trio relaxed.

Daisy flopped face down on the sofa, her left arm dangling off the edge and on the carpet.

"I'm really excited to start this book project, Tim. It'll be great. I know it will be. And everyone will say 'Oh, Daisy, we didn't know you had it in you! We knew you were _good_, but we didn't now _how_ good'…and it'll be great, Tim. You'll see… Great…"

Some four hours later she jumped awake, the sofa cushion wet with drool and her hair matted to her forehead.

"What happened? Oh, no… Did I…"

"Fall asleep? Yes."

"_Shit_."

She shoved her face into the cushions as Tim and Mike continued to kill the zombies in the video game.

"Know what, Tim?" She leaned over his shoulder.

"What?"

"Tomorrow—_tomorrow_ begins 'Daisy Steiner: Published Novelist.' _Tomorrow_ I won't sleep until I have it all sorted and started."__

He nodded and zapped four more zombies, as she leaned back onto the sofa and watched.

"This is nice, us just hanging out, like proper mates."

"I told you, we are proper mates, Daisy!"

"_I know_."

For the remainder of the Saturday, Tim and Mike killed zombies as Daisy watched.

The next morning, Daisy began her novel. She made it three sentences and seven cups of tea before she gave up and watched some of _Grange Hill_.


End file.
